


Missing Pieces

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes' social skills, F/M, Forced Sterilisation, Hydra (Marvel), Hysterectomy, KGB, Natasha Feels, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Platonic Soulmates, Red Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7769065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky and Nat bond over shared experiences of losing their humanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Pieces

Natasha reached down to the table she was working nest to, and picked up another book, placing it on the shelf above her head.

“Bucky, remind me to royally lecture Steve about the mess he leaves after _every_ one of his obsessive 21st century catch up sessions,” Nat muttered curtly, reaching for another book. ‘Music of the 90’s’.

“And remind me never to tidy it up after him again,” She continued.

Bucky didn’t look up from his own obsessive endeavour. Every weapon he owned was spread out on the coffee table. One through seven had been cleaned. Nine left to go.

“He works well in chaos. Always has,” Bucky mumbled, crossing his legs underneath him and continuing cleaning, remembering the nights in Brooklyn where Steve would sit in the middle of the floor of their apartment, surrounded by papers and books. It made Bucky's head hurt to imagine the lack of order, but Steve seemed to thrive.

Nat hopped down from the step ladder and came to observe.

“You clearly don’t,” Nat gestured towards the line of guns and combat knives, arranged by size on the coffee table, “Jeez, that line-up brings me inner peace.”

Bucky hummed a reply and looked up briefly at the Widow, but his eyes froze for longer than he had planned on the spot where her t-shirt had ridden on her hips.

“Jesus Natasha, what did _that?”_ Bucky asked, pointing.

Nat went to smile at Bucky’s lack of tact, but realised what he was looking at and soon fell sombre.

“It’s… It’s a hysterectomy scar ,” Natasha smiled weakly, trying to cool the blatant concern on Bucky’s face. She pushed her t-shirt back down calmly.

He wouldn’t usually be fazed by a scar, but this was different. It ran from hipbone to hipbone and was shiny and pink. It was obviously rushed and messy, keloid and thick from opened stitches and re-healing. It looked like it had been made with a normal kitchen knife, no type of surgical scalpel. A coldness ran down his spine.

“What’s a hyst…what you just said?” Bucky frowned, feeling his cheeks colour with embarrassment at his own ignorance.

Nat sat down next to him. She took a moment for what seemed like self-collection, something quite unusual of Natasha. She would have usually come clean about whatever it was efficiently and cooly, throwing in some humour to buffer any emotion. This was different.

“When I was at the Red Room,” She started, “Sterilisation was a non-negotiable fact. So they just…cut my womb out instead of any trickier procedure. Quicker, I guess. It wasn’t something I needed, weapons don’t need to reproduce.”

Bucky winced at the thought and put his hand gently on Natasha’s stomach. It felt no different from any other stomach he had ever felt; soft, warm, rising with each breath, but the knowledge of what laid underneath his hand, or rather what didn’t, made him instantly upset.

The scar would be there every time she looked down, every time she showered or undressed. A pearly line of crossed out possibilities. A constant reminder that her femininity was only to be used to destroy, not to create. She could use her body to lure and ruse, kill and manipulate, but she could not use it for what everyone on the force knew that she wanted to; motherhood.

Bucky realised that it troubled him so much because he knew that feeling. The feeling of being made less human to fulfil a purpose.

“Sorry,” He whispered hastily, withdrawing his hand.

Natasha shook her head and frowned.

“Sorry for what? People mess with your arm all the time. This is no different. You’re curious,” She smiled.

Bucky nodded slowly before doing something that was for him, quite drastic.

“Come here,” He ordered, wincing at how brutal it sounded.

“Please,” he added to soften his tone.

He wrapped his arms around Natasha and held her there, reminding himself not to squeeze as hard as he might with Steve, unnerved by how small she felt in his arms. Natasha closed her eyes, buried into the crook of Bucky’s neck and relaxed, realising this was probably the first real hug she had gotten in a while and not wishing to end it.

“Shall I let go now?” Bucky whispered after a moment of dead silence between the two of them, "I never know when to let go."

Natasha laughed, stroking Bucky’s cheek, endeared by the social ineptness that came with years alone.

“If you’d like,” Nat nodded.

Bucky came straight back, pulling her back into his arms and holding on all over again.

“No,” Bucky protested, “No, I don’t.”

Natasha changed the tables, cradling Bucky to her chest and holding him there. She started to sway gently, feeling the soldier relax into touch that he never usually looked for. Even Steve could not break down his walls some days.

“I guess we’ve both had something taken away from us, hey?” Natasha whispered into Bucky’s hair, ignoring the tears streaming down her cheeks.

It was an unfamiliar sensation. Usually her tears were dry, pounded into a punching bag or scribbled into a journal that she would burn when the pages were full. This time they flowed freely, soaking into the shoulder of Bucky’s t-shirt.

“Please don’t cry, Natasha,” Bucky pleaded, “Please, come on.”  


She nodded, pressing a quick kiss to Bucky’s forehead and standing up, straightening her clothes and breathing slowly.

“I won’t,” Natasha smiled, her eyes still watery, “No more tears.”  


Bucky nodded, satisfied with the promise and calm in a way that he rarely felt.

 

“Hey, Nat?” Bucky called as she left the room.

“Mm?” She replied, turning and tilting her head.

 

“You’re still beautiful, you know,” Bucky muttered shyly, “Guts or…no guts.”

 

Natasha rubbed the bridge of her nose, laughing till her tears changed to pleasant ones.

 

“You need to talk to more women, sweetheart,” Nat sighed finally,

“Urgently.”

 

 

 


End file.
